


Crack the Shutters

by LtTanyaBoone



Category: NCIS
Genre: Choose Your Own Character, F/M, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-07
Updated: 2010-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-15 10:20:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtTanyaBoone/pseuds/LtTanyaBoone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And even though their son was growing up way too fast, he would always remember their mornings together."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crack the Shutters

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my second cousin J, because I could spend days just watching him, be awed by his smile, the way his eyes shine in wonder and amazement and the way his laugh lights up my world. May your life be always filled with laughter and joy, little man.

_Disclaimers:_ NCIS, the rights to the show and its characters do not belong to me. No money was made by this. "Crack The Shutters" is a song by Snow Patrol, I do not own this one, either. _  
Spoilers:_ none really, AU  
 _Pairing:_ Ziva/??? (put in whoever you want to be there)

* * *

  
_Crack the shutters open wide, I wanna bathe you in the light of day  
_ _And just watch you as the rays tangle up around your face and body  
_ _I could sit for hours finding new ways to be awed each minute_   
_Cuz' the daylight seems to want you just as much as I want you_   
_It's been minutes, it's been days, it's been all I will remember_   


_'Crack The Shutters' ~ Snow Patrol_

* * *

Carefully, he crept into the room and paused as the floorboard creaked under him. When nothing happened, he relaxed and took the last steps to the window. Opening the shutters, he let the first rays of daylight drift into the room, hitting the bassinet on the wall. He slowly turned around, a smile on his lips. This was his favorite part of the morning. When his wife was still asleep, exhausted from getting up for the 2 a.m. feeding, and he got to wake up their son.

Slowly, he walked over to the bassinet, and leaned down. His son was sleeping peacefully, sunrays illuminating his beautiful face and body in the sleeping bag. Patiently, he waited, until his son crinkled his tiny nose for the first time. His smile widened. Good, the infant was slowly waking up. He reached over and switched the baby monitor off, knowing that his wife was still asleep and would wake up if she heard the noise from the nursery. Her alarm would go off in 45 minutes, and then their son would be awake enough to be heard in the rest of the house, so she would not immediately panic from the lack of transmission from the baby monitor.

His son crinkled his nose again, and this time, he also moved his legs in the sleeping bag, shifting in his bassinet. He was getting too big for it, they would have to put him in a crib soon. He was growing up way too fast. Why could he not stay so small and unaware of the cruelty of the world that his parents had to see every single day?

Samuel raised the fists on the side of his head and shook them with a strained look on his face before he let them fall down again and relaxed, drawing a deep, shuddering breath. It was the cutest thing his father had ever seen, and every single morning, he barely restrained himself from letting out an unmanly shriek at the gesture.

Patiently, he waited, but not for long. Again, his son moved a bit, and this time, his eyes fluttered slightly before falling closed again. His mouth made a sucking motion, and his father quickly grabbed the pacifier that had fallen from the baby's mouth sometime during the night, ready to intercept should the boy start crying. His mother needed all the rest she could get, but with her ninja skills and bionic hearing, she would be in the room before the first unhappy wail was over.

At the thought of her protectiveness, he gave a low chuckle. When she had told him she was pregnant, they had just hit a rocky phase in their relationship. He was still afraid of commitment, and having a baby in his books was more permanent than any marriage could get. They had talked like normal adults, pushing away their romantic feelings and analyzing the situation. He had been sleeping at his own place back then, and not realized just how much this was eating at her. Then, the next day, she had not shown up at work. And it had taken only on call at her OB/GYN to have him race down the stairs to his car. He broke every speed limit in town and made it just in time. He had never come so close to losing the best things that had ever happened to him. He had almost lost his child, and knew it would have broken her, too, even though she did not admit how much she wanted this baby, not at first. That had changed over the course of the pregnancy, she had become attached and let her motherly side show more often. When their son had been born, she had refused to let go of him three times when the nurse had asked to take him away for his check up. She had really needed that bonding time, he had seen it in her eyes as she looked at the newborn in her arms and gently stroked his cheek. And now she was so in tune with him that she often went to him before he had even started to cry.

Samuel was a quiet baby and did not give them a hard time too often. Well, at least, he did not think he was. His wife may think otherwise, but he was at work during the day, and she was alone with him. Which was why he was more than happy to take over the waking up and morning diaper change, and the bathing in the evening, when he was home in time for those. Since she had decided to nurse, she had to feed him herself, and until there was an emergency, she did not want her son taking his food from a bottle. Which he admired, really, because he saw how tired and exhausted she was at the end of the day, always falling asleep while they were watching a movie, shortly after Samuel had been put to bed. But still she got up in the middle of the night to feed him without complaining.

Speaking of complaining, his son was making an unhappy sound in the back of his throat, and he gently placed the pacifier to his lips, waiting until the boy sucked away happily. This time, he opened his eyes for a few seconds before they began to droop, and he carefully opened his sleeping bag. It was warm enough that he would not be cold in the few minutes that it would take to change him.

They had experimented with his morning routine a bit. Okay, he had. He had woken him up, which had resulted in unhappy screams for hours on end. No, much like him, his son just was not a morning person. Then, he had slowly roused him by taking him from his bassinet and changing his diaper. This again had been greeted with screams. And if he had not known better, he could have sworn his son had sulked with him, crying every time he took him for two days, refusing to be settled by him, and Heaven forbid if he even thought about changing him. But now they had found a way that seemed to work. He would open the shutters on his window and leave him to wake up on his own, encouraging the process if he took too long by gently caressing his soft cheek. When he could keep his eyes open for a moment longer, he would gently take off his sleeping bag and lift him into his arms. Speaking of which, his son was looking at him, rubbing his chubby hands over his eyes.

"Good morning little man." he softly greeted him, and carefully lifted him out of his bassinet after taking off the sleeping bag. Slowly, he walked over to the window; standing so his son could have a look outside while he had his head half buried in his chest. He could not see much of anything right now, the pediatrician had informed them, but he still had the feeling that his son knew what was going on, that he could indeed see. He had skipped the ritual a few days ago, and the boy had been extremely cranky for the rest of the day. No, plus it was something only the two of them did. They greeted the world first thing in the morning, and they said good night every single night before he put Samuel to bed.

His son yawned and the pacifier fell from his mouth. He just managed to catch it and placed it on the window sill before stroking his head of dark hair and kissing the soft skin of his forehead affectionately. He had had a rough night, twice he had gotten up to calm him down and put him back to sleep, and he had also demanded another feeding at 4 a.m. tonight. His wife had said that he had not had much for lunch and dinner; perhaps he was coming down with something. Or his schedule was simply changing, and he needed fewer feedings as his tiny stomach grew, and did not know how to adjust to that. They would ask their doctor on the next check-up next week.

Samuel raised his fists and grabbed his shirt, rubbing his face against the cotton material. His father had learned the hard way that wearing a shirt was a good idea when you were holding an infant. Because that little guy had a real death grip, and pulling out his chest hair had hurt like hell.

Ten minutes later, he had changed his son into a fresh diaper, a new onesie, a dark shirt and green tights with cars printed on them. Just as he was gently tickling his son's stomach, he heard the door to the master bedroom close and smiled.

"Hey Sammy, you wanna go say mornin' to Ima?" he asked his son, lifting him up again, mindful of supporting his head. He turned around, taking in the look of his wife as she stood in the doorway. Her dark curls were a mess, the pillow had left an imprint on her cheek. Her bare feet touched the hardwood floor, and she shivered lightly, only clad in his oversized shirt he had worn the day before.

"Boker Tov, Malach." she said, allowing him to hand their precious bundle of joy over to her, holding him against her chest. She inhaled his sweet scent and gently kissed his dark hair before leaning up and kissing her husband.

Who decided that this was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He had a family of his own. And even though their son was growing up way too fast, he would always remember their mornings together.

_fin._


End file.
